Plain Jane

by Fern Michaels

  “I just got back two weeks ago. Yeah, I know I was supposed to write. You know me.”

  Tick motioned to one of the two chairs in the small room. He noticed that Pete favored one leg over the other. “What happened?”

  “I got a little busted up on the rodeo circuit. Got a new hip and knee. Met up with this guy from Argentina, and he asked me to go with him to take care of his polo ponies. Seemed like a good idea at the time. Hell, I still think it was the best thing I could have done at the time. The guy paid me ten times what I was worth, gave me incredible bonuses. Everything was free, great lodgings, free food, my own Jeep. I banked every cent of my money.

  “Listen, Tick, I didn’t know about Sally and the kids. If I had known, I would have hopped on the first plane I could find. I went to see Andy, and he told me. Jesus, I walked around in a daze for almost a week. He wouldn’t tell me where you were. Good old Andy wouldn’t tell me. I couldn’t believe it. He wouldn’t tell me. I threatened him with everything in the book, and I gotta tell you, he’s a hell of a friend and one hell of an attorney; he didn’t give you up, Tick.”

  “You’re here!”

  Pete squirmed in his chair. He looked down at his shoes as though he wondered why he was still holding them. He bent over, winced, and set them on the floor. “Yeah, I did a little breaking and entering. Jeez, his office is a house on Peachtree. A ten-year-old could pick that lock. I looked in your file and found out you were here. So, here I am, a little late, Tick, but I’m here now. What can I do?”

  Tick smiled. “I wish there was something you could do, but there isn’t. I’m okay. You can go back to Argentina knowing I’m okay and don’t need you or anyone else.”

  Pete leaned forward. “That’s not quite true, now is it? You need Andy. I know he takes care of all your finances, I saw it in the files. Seems like you’re doing pretty well for an ex-cop turned author. I’m okay with you not needing me, but don’t start handing me bullshit, Tick. Jesus, I’m bleeding for Sally and the kids. I know the story, so you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to tell me. I can’t go back to Argentina, my boss fell off one of his ponies and got stomped to death. I came back with enough money to go into business for myself. I even brought you a check for that five grand I borrowed from you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled check. He laid it on the small table next to his chair.

  “Keep it.”

  “Nah, it doesn’t work like that. I always pay my debts. I found a bar and grill on Peachtree. Pop would have loved it. Andy’s checking it out to make sure it’s as good as it sounds. I have enough to pay cash and will have quite a bit left over. I have a Realtor looking for some digs for me in the area. And, I’m getting married in six months. I want you to be my best man the way I was yours when . . . you know.”

  Tick couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice. “You’re getting married! You?”

  “Hard to believe, huh? Yeah, I met her in Argentina. She was there on vacation with a few friends. She works for the State Department. Right now she’s in England and will be back in six months, then she’s quitting. She loves to cook, so we’re going to buy the bar and grill together. She’s willing to put in half the asking price. So, will you be my best man?”

  A burst of panic flooded Tick’s whole being. Standing up for his brother would mean he’d have to leave his nest. He had to say something to wipe the awful look off his brother’s face. He shrugged. “Six months is a long time down the road.” He hated the way his voice sounded, all shaky and squeaky.

  Pete nodded as though he understood. “You might not want to hear this, but I’m going to tell you anyway. I went out to the cemetery. I took flowers. Said some prayers, talked to . . . Christ, that was the hardest thing I ever did in my whole life. I sat there on the ground and picked the flowers apart. So I went back and bought some more. They were pretty, Tick. I remembered how Sally had all those rosebushes in the yard. I left a standing order for the flower shop to deliver every Saturday. I wanted to do so much more but, Tick, there wasn’t anything else to do. If there’s more I can do, tell me, and I’ll do it.”

  Tick bit down on his lower lip. He should have done what Pete did. All those years and no flowers on his family’s graves. He should have made arrangements to do what Pete did. Oh, no, it had been more important to put his snoot in a bottle and hide out. All he could think of to say was, “Thanks.”

  “You gonna talk to me, Tick? Do I have to drag it out of you?”

  Tick finally found his tongue. “I’m sure Andy told you all the nitty-gritty details. After the funeral, which I really don’t remember, I got in my car and started to drive. I honest to God do not know how I got here. I do know that I was in a stupor for about two and a half years. It’s all one big blank. I woke up one morning and knew I was going to die. At first I didn’t care. Then I did care. I thought about what Pop told us as kids when we did something wrong. He’d say, it’s time to straighten up and fly right. The village people must have taken care of me. I have vague memories of people standing over me. There always seemed to be food for me to eat. A boat comes once a week with supplies, so I have to assume I somehow made arrangements to get liquor delivered.

  “I write books these days. Do you believe that? And, they made movies out of them. Who knew I could do that? Certainly not me.”

  Pete waved his arms about. “So, this is it? The end of the road for you? There’s a lot to be said for peace and quiet and tranquillity but to withdraw so totally, I can’t believe that’s a good thing. Don’t you miss Atlanta and all the action? You had a lot of friends back there on the force. Everyone just said you fell off the face of the earth.”

  “I’m content. For now. Things might have turned out differently if they hadn’t caught the punk who killed my family. They gunned him down right outside my house. I would have hunted him down and killed him myself. There’s nothing back there for me now.” His voice was defiant when he said, “I like it here.”

  “Yeah, I can see that. Kind of small, though. How about I stay around long enough to help you build another room on to this . . . stilt house? Remember when we helped Pop build a sunroom for Mom? I’m free as the breeze for the next six months. Let me help, Tick. I need to do something for you. If you’re writing another book and need to concentrate on that, I can do it on my own. I was always better at the hammer-and-nails thing than you were. Even Pop said so. A nice big room with wall-to-wall windows so you can see the ocean. Maybe a big fancy bathroom. By the way, do you own this place?”

  “Yeah. I bought it a few years ago from the village. It’s kind of complicated. Everyone in the village is related. Indian heritage. This Key is the result of some kind of land grant. One of the elders came out here one day, and he had this big stick. He asked me to follow him, and he kept dragging the stick; and then he said everything within the lines was mine. He held out his hand, we shook, and I paid him two thousand dollars. That’s all he wanted. He signed his name on a piece of paper, and I signed mine. End of story.”

  All Pete could think of to say was, “Uh-huh.”

  Tick remembered that he was a host. “Want a beer?”

  Pete’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “You drink?”

  “A beer now and then. I learned my lesson, I know my limitations. I don’t crave it if that’s your next question. It’s nice to see you, Pete. I mean that. I guess I wasn’t very hospitable when you showed up. I didn’t quite know what to do. I’ve been running from the past, then, suddenly, there you were, front and center.”

  Pete nodded. “No social life, eh?”

  Tick laughed. “I guess what you’re asking me is do I miss sex?” He laughed again. “I go into Miami every so often. I bought a cigarette boat. I see a lady there at times. She’s one of those people who knows everything there is to know about computers. It’s what it is. So, do you want that beer or not?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, Tick, I do. Having a beer with my brother . . . it doesn’t get any better tha
n that.”

  Tick looked at his twin for a long minute. “You’re right, Pete. And yeah, you can stay, and yeah, we can build the room. It will be like old times.”

  Pete let his breath out in a loud swoosh. “I didn’t bring anything with me. I’ll have to go back to the Keys to get my stuff. You got some old shorts or old clothes. I’m sweating like a Trojan.”

  “I’ll run you down there tomorrow,” Tick said, tossing him a pair of khaki shorts and a threadbare T-shirt. “Bathroom is in there,” he added, pointing to his left. “I’ll get the beer, and we can sit on the porch. It sits two.”

  Pete guffawed. “I noticed.”

  And then it was like old times, two brothers who actually liked one another, talking about world affairs, women, work, and the weather as they shared a beer.

  Then they were on the little porch, Pete on the swing, Tick on the chair, his feet propped up on the banister. “Tell me about the lady you’re going to marry.”

  “She’s great, Tick. You’re going to like her. She’s grounded. I know she works for the State Department, but that’s all I know. She doesn’t talk about what she does. I don’t know if it’s need to know or she just isn’t comfortable talking about her job. She must be well paid because she has enough money to invest in our business. Her name is Sadie. Her real name is Serafina. She’s Italian. Mom would have loved her. We call and e-mail. But there are times when she’s off-line for weeks. She never gives me an explanation other than to say, ‘it’s job-related.’ I learned to accept it. I’ve known her for three years. She’s thirty-seven.”

  “I’m happy for you, Pete. I mean that.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No. It’s not time yet. Maybe that time will never come. What color were the roses you took to the cemetery?”

  “Yellow and some pink ones for Emma. Daisies for Ricky. The monument is nice. Andy took care of that. A mother angel and two little ones.” His voice broke, and tears flooded his eyes. He swiped at them with the back of his hand.

  Tick cringed. Everyone was doing what he should have done.

  “Hey, let’s take a walk on the beach. Show me how much of this glorious paradise is yours.” Pete hopped off the swing and yanked at Tick’s arm, jerking him to his feet. Then they were in each other’s arms, hugging one another and pounding each other on the back.

  “Sometimes life out and out sucks. It doesn’t mean it won’t ever get better, it just means you have to work harder at making it right. Hey, what about the bird? Do you have to put it in a cage?” Pete asked, hoping to drive the stricken look off his brother’s face.

  “When did you get so smart? The bird is a free spirit. He just moved in one day and decided to stay. I don’t even remember what day or year it was. Suddenly, he was just there. We get along just fine, but he’s a tad salty.”

  “When I was lying in a hospital doped to the eyeballs for my pain, I had a lot of time to reflect. A lot of time. Hey, I can tell when it’s going to rain within three hours. If my bar and grill goes belly-up, I can probably get a job as a weatherman. You always gotta look at the positive. You got a bed for me, or do I have to sleep on the floor?”

  Tick doubled over laughing. “That is an accomplishment. Not to worry, I have one of those blowup beds that come in a sack, and the only reason I have it is Andy keeps saying he’s coming down here. Since he hates to fly, I don’t see that happening anytime soon.”

  Tick looked up at the star-filled night in time to see a shooting star flash across the sky. He wondered if it was an omen of things to come. A light breeze ruffled his hair as he strode along. The ocean’s warm water lapped at his feet and ankles. It was so soothing, he knew that if he ever left here, he would miss this nightly ritual.

  A long time later, Pete said, “What the hell is that?” pointing to that place. “It looks like something you might see at the gates of hell.”

  Tick frowned. He hadn’t realized they’d walked so far. A full moon rode high in the sky, outlining the enormous building that stood like a dark avenging something or other. “I have no idea. The village people refer to it as that place at the end of the beach. As far as I know, it’s uninhabited. I never come this far on my nightly walks and usually I go the other way. I’ve never seen anyone around the place or on the beach, at least I haven’t during the day. Though I thought I heard someone crying once, I’m sure it was an animal. At night I think someone comes and goes, not sure why, never really cared to find out. It was being completed when I was just coming out of my drunken stupor. I never really cared enough to inquire, and, besides, who would I ask? I can tell you one thing, it cost a bundle to build. That’s for sure.”

  “Are you sure it’s empty?”

  “No, but I never see anyone. I hear voices late at night sometimes if I’m out walking. No boats coming in. I’d hear a motorboat. The Coast Guard rips by five or six times a day. Usually the same boat. I can tell by the sound of the engine. And, when they start to approach that thing, they throttle back, so it’s my guess they’re keeping their eyes on it. In order to get there on foot, you have to go past my place. I never see any lights, so I just assume it was built by some drug lord who got caught, and the place just sits there now because everyone is afraid to go near it. No one wants to get caught up in anything drug-related or whatever goes on there during the night.”

  “What do you think, Tick?”

  “You know what, Pete, I try not to think about it. I have enough of my own problems without worrying about an empty building and the Coast Guard keeping an eye on it.”

  “Does anyone check on it?” Pete asked.

  “You mean aside from the Coast Guard? Maybe the DEA, the DOJ, hell maybe ICE has an eye on that thing. Aside from all the drive-bys I’ve heard, no one else has been poking around, at least to my knowledge. Why are you so curious about an empty building?”

  “You live just down the beach from it, Tick. Those drug people shoot first and ask questions later. I would think with your background, you’d be a bit more curious.”

  “You trying to spook me, Pete?”

  “Hell yes I’m trying to spook you. You need to keep your wits about you. Jesus, there’s not a soul to be seen except for you and me. If no one checks on you, you could be shot dead, and no one would know but that damn parrot, and I doubt you’ve taught him how to call 911.”

  Tick turned around and started back the way they’d come. “I think we’re both tired, and it’s time to go to bed. If you like, we can check it out tomorrow in daylight.”

  “Yeah, let’s do that. You’re right, it’s been a long day.”

  2

  Kate Rush stood in the middle of the filthy room as she strained to see outside through the louvered glass windows that were a quarter of the way open, the handles to close them long rusted. Outside, sheets of rain blasted the building in hard-driving whacks of sounds. The palm trees nearly bent in half from the ninety-mile-an-hour gale-force winds slapped at the building, adding to the deafening barrage of sound. Visibility was zero. And it was going to be dark soon.

  There were few things in life that frightened Kate Rush and, while she wasn’t exactly frightened at the moment, she was uneasy. She’d been through a hurricane before and hadn’t liked it then. And she sure as hell didn’t like it now. Uneasy because the moldy, smelly building was empty of furnishings, her contact was a no-show, and a hurricane was raging just inches from where she stood. There was no place to sit, no place to hide or take cover. She’d been leaning against one of the mildewed walls for over two hours as she waited for her contact to show up. Her hand crept inside her jacket on the left side. The comforting feel of the Sig Sauer almost wiped away the uneasy feeling.

  Little storm, my ass, she thought as she remembered Tyler’s words when he had called to tell her to meet him. She’d mentioned the word, hurricane, which he’d pooh-poohed, saying, “We get these little storms all the time. This is Florida. Get used to it, Agent Rush.” As if she didn’t know this. She
’d spent her childhood and teen years living in Florida. Of course, schmuck that he was, he’d probably forgotten that small detail.

  So, she’d packed her bags, driven to Phoenix, parked her car in the long-term lot at the airport, and flown to Miami, where she’d rented a car and driven here through a hurricane. The big question was, where in the hell was her handler, the macho Lawrence Tyler, who was to meet her two hours ago? Hopefully in a ditch somewhere, never to surface again. Or, maybe, washed away out to the Gulf, never to surface again. Or, stranded on someone’s roof fighting for his life from the raging waters, only to be swept away, never to surface again. Oh, be still my heart.

  Kate hated Lawrence Tyler. All the agents who worked under Lawrence Tyler hated him. If he threw himself a going-away party, no one would attend. Tyler was a sneaky, slick, obnoxious glory hound who used his agents to make a name for himself. He was the show horse, and the rest of them were the workhorses. She knew in her gut this assignment was a payback for the last confrontation she’d had with the nattily dressed Special Agent. She’d won that round, and Tyler had been transferred from the Phoenix office to Florida. But Tyler had a long arm, he knew how to kiss ass, and he had an all-powerful protector in his father, who just happened to be Florida’s governor.

  Kate fished around in her go-bag until she found the powerful Maglite she was never without. The bright light didn’t help her mood. She shifted from one foot to the other as she listened to the storm outside. She ran the phone call from Tyler over and over in her mind. Tyler had said everything was NTK. Obviously, while he wanted her here, he wasn’t about to tell her why until they were face-to-face. “Need to know, my ass,” she muttered for the second time.

  The long and short of it was that, for the snitch fee, one weasel had probably whispered something about some drug deal or something else equally rotten that was about to go down into another weasel’s ear, who then whispered it into Tyler’s ear, who then hit the ground running without checking the details—his usual MO.